Schastlivij Den' Svyatogo Valentina
by IAmPrussian
Summary: Canada was accustomed to spending Valentine's Day alone. But when a certain Russian seeks a safe haven from his obsessive sister, will Canada's Valentine's Day loneliness be quelled?


Author's Notes: Of course I own nothing of Hetalia; it all belongs to the amazing Hidekaz Himaruya. Enjoy! :D

* * *

"I think you should wake up now," a soft voice radiated from beside my bed. I gently opened my eyes, only able to make out a blur surrounded by bright sunlight without my glasses on. I immediately slammed them shut once more.

"Kuma, five more minutes," I mumbled as I lazily nuzzled my pillow.

"Your bear is downstairs. You've slept in late enough, _da_? It's almost noon."

Instantly recognizing the voice, I fumbled around for my glasses on the nightstand beside me. Sliding them onto my face, I pushed the ivory comforter off my frame.

"I-Ivan? How did you get in my house?" I was positive I had locked the front door, along with all the windows.

"I found my way in," he replied with his familiar smile.

That was one thing I found attractive about him- he always appeared happy, even if it did come off as creepy or mad.

"Why are you here though?"

"I had to find someplace to hide from my sister. She can be a little obsessive, _da_?" He propped his face on his right hand, staring at me with those intriguing violet eyes. "I always do this when _Den__ʹ__ svyatogo Valentina_ approaches- usually I stay at China's, but recently Natalia discovered my hiding place. So I decided to stay at your house for the day," Ivan explained with an ever-widening smile. "You approve of me staying, _da_?"

"O-Of course," I stuttered slightly as Russia's Cheshire grin intensified. It was scaring me, but I tried to remain relatively composed. "Just let me get ready, alright?" I let my feet dangle off my bed. The wood floor was much cooler than I expected it to be, causing me to hesitate slightly before I placed the full weight of my body onto my feet.

"_Ochen horosho._" Ivan's smile loosened up a bit as he walked out of the room, tapping his faucet pipe against his thigh and humming a song to himself.

I had no idea Russia was even aware of my presence, much less where I lived. I usually just admired him from afar. I had only spoken to the man a few times, but each encounter was pleasant. I'm surprised he didn't forget me as the other nations often did.

As I started rummaging around my closet for a decent outfit, I realized the situation wasn't bad at all. I always spent Valentine's Day alone; maybe it would be nice to spend it with someone else for once? Finding something suitable, I shut the door. I slipped out of my scarlet pajamas and into my clothes, setting the pajamas in the hamper for me to wash later.

"There, much better," I said aloud. I often spoke to myself; there were times I could carry a full one-sided conversation. Kumajirro would stare at me when I did. Or… was it Kumajiru? I decided a couple months ago to just shorten it to Kuma, because I could never remember the white bear's whole name.

Making my way to my restroom, I noticed Ivan was singing down the hall in the direction of my kitchen.

"_Oy polnym polna mоya korobushka  
_

_Yest' i sitets i parcha.  
Pozhaley, dusha-zaznobushka,  
Molodetskogo plecha..._"

"Where have I heard that before?" I wondered audibly as I ran the toothbrush in my mouth. It felt eerily familiar. "Hm, I'll have to ask him what that song is." Once done, I rinsed my mouth and toothbrush to rid them of any toothpaste that may have been left. I combed my hair, avoiding a certain curl as I did so.

Prepared for the day ahead, I stepped out of the bathroom and walked to my kitchen. My suspicions were confirmed: Ivan definitely was in my kitchen, searching restlessly through my refrigerator. Kuma sat on the red Chesterfield in the nearby family room, cocking his head as he caught glimpse of me.

"Good morning Kuma. How did you sleep?"

"I slept well." His shiny black eyes beamed as he questioned for the umpteenth time "Who are you?"

"I'm Canada, your owner," I replied. He had been mine for years and couldn't remember me, yet Russia- whom I hardly spoke to- knew exactly who I was.

"_Katya berezhno torguyetsya  
Vsyo boitsya peredat'—  
_

Ah, _priviet_ Matthew. I'm hungry, you do have food, _da_?"

"Oh, of course, I have left-over pancakes if you would like some. I-Is that alright with you?"

"_Zvuchit neploho," _he quickly nodded his head. "Pancakes are nice."

Ivan sat next to Kuma on the Chesterfield, scaring the poor creature. In response, he ran into a neighboring room. I made a mental note to check on him later.

"Okay!" I smiled, genuinely happy to share my food. I quickly went to the refrigerator, pulling out the masterpieces I created out of boredom the previous night. "Russia, what song were you signing? I think I've heard it before."

"Ah, you mean '_Korobeiniki_', _da_? It's a folk song."

Curious, I asked "What is it about?" I tossed 12 pancakes haphazardly on a large plate, setting them in the microwave to heat. I decided to sit with Russia as I waited.

"A peddler and a girl haggle with one another through metaphors. It's a very creative song, _da_," Ivan took a swig out of a bottle previously in his trench coat. He quietly set it on the coffee table, though I noticed his pipe remained in his firm grip. "I can teach it to you if you'd like. You'll need to know it when you become one with Russia, _da~_"

"I'm not sure if I'll become one with you…"

"You will become one with Russia," the smile on Ivan's lips wavered dangerously and a mysterious shadow cast over a portion of his face. He fiddled around with the faucet pipe, as if to bring it near me.

Thank God the microwave decided to beep angrily at me at that moment. "Oh, uh, s-sounds like the pancakes are done!" I squeaked, springing up from my sitting place and ran to the appliance.

I took out the hot, decadent food. I grabbed two plates and forks, butter with a spreading knife, a bowl of blueberries, and my famous maple syrup. Once again I made my way to my enigmatic guest. Placing the food before him, I sensed something changed in his demeanor.

I was hesitant to be near him again, seeing as I was threatened to be annexed against my will, but that fear subsided when Russia looked at me concisely. He grinned, but it didn't feel like his usual smile at all. This one felt warm, inviting.

He eyed the food, then brought his eyes to meet mine. The violet color in them was endless... I felt myself blush, not used to such intense eye-contact. I turned away completely embarrassed.

"W-Would you like anything else?" I hated the fact that I stuttered when I was flustered, but one of the beauties of not being recognized was that no one seemed to notice.

"_Nyet_," he shook his head.

The cute smile didn't falter in the slightest; it only seemed to spread like jam on those strange biscuits England concocted. Why did I have to find Russia, the most intimidating country, attractive? My cheeks were now the same color as the crimson on my beloved flag. I desperately turned away once more.

I sat next to Ivan, but allowed a severe gap between us. He finally let go of the infamous pipe, setting it roughly by his feet. Not wanting to be rude, I let my guest serve himself first. I almost gasped at the amount of pancakes he took. 8? That was almost the whole stack!

Sensing my distress, Russia turned his head slightly while he applied a generous amount of butter and syrup on said stack. "I could eat all of them, _da_. But then what would little Mattie eat?"

"Mattie?"

"That's your nickname, _da_? Do you not want me to call you that?"

I beamed happily. "I haven't been called Mattie in a while now. You can call me that if you want."

Russia placed the rest of the mouthwatering delicacies on a plate and handed it to me. I accepted it with a meek "Thank you."

We ate in almost utter silence, the only sounds being forks clanking and the occasional setting down of the vodka bottle. I was tempted to ask Russia if I could have some vodka as well, but decided it was asking for too much and left it alone. Ivan, on the other hand, must have seen me staring at the bottle.

"Mattie wants some vodka_, da_?" he inquired. "I can share some with you, but you have to promise me something in return."

I made sure I had swallowed the last bits of pancake before I spoke, unlike a certain brother of mine. "What did you have in mind?"

"If you drink some vodka, you have to let me stay here every _Den__ʹ__ svyatogo Valentina_. Seems fair, _da_?"

"Yes, it does. I rather enjoyed your company today, Ivan. I… I hope you visit more often than just Valentine's Day though." Saying that wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.

That endearing smirk danced upon Russia's lips once more. Suddenly, an odd feeling came over me. _I wanted to kiss that smile right off him_. I had liked him for a while, but when had I had such impulsive desires? I was going to turn into France before I knew it.

He swiftly shoved the bottle in my direction, snapping me out of my thoughts. "_Budem zdorovy._"

"What does that mean?" I took the bottle offered, cocking an eyebrow while looking into the bottle. The clear liquid sloshed around when I gently moved it.

Russia picked up his pipe and set it on his lap. "Let's stay healthy. For good luck, _da_."

I wanted to mimic Ivan's Russian, but found it difficult to do so. "_Budem z… zdorvy?_" I brought the opening of the heavy bottle to my bottom lip and then quickly raised it up to drink a bit of the alcohol. "It's… Actually quite tasteless. Is that normal?"

"That means it's good. You like it, _da_?" He closed in the gap between us slightly, but I didn't mind. I just wanted some more vodka.

"I really like it. May I have some more?" I propped the bottle on my kneecap for a moment.

Ivan's once heat-warming grin turned wicked. "Of course, little Mattie can have as much as he wants- as long as his body can handle it."

I should have taken that as a red flag, but I drank a little more… And more… And more. Pretty soon, dim orange light and shadows from outside greeted the white walls with their warm embrace. The sunset was just beginning, but I didn't seem to notice. I had downed so much of the vodka, I almost dropped the bottle. Luckily Russia had leaned over enough to catch it, partially crushing me in the process.

"I think you've had enough, _da_?" It took me a while to realize it, but a look of slight worry washed over his features.

"VODKAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" I shouted, giggling hysterically as I plopped on the cherry-stained floors of my house. My glasses fell beside me quite a ways, so I didn't feel like picking them up again.

"Mattie?" Russia pulled me up too my feet, loosely holding onto me in order to keep me from falling over. A quizzical look that seemed to state 'what the hell is wrong with you?' transcribed his face.

"Heeeeeeeey, how'dya say 'I love ya' in Russian, eh?"

Russia cleared his throat before answering the question. "_Ya tebya lyublyu_."

"_Ya tefbla lubleooooo!_" I exploded into a fit of laughter, slamming my fist against the floor.

"It was a good try, _da_."

"Eh, Russipoo, don'tcha wanna be my Valentine?" I asked, speech slurred by the high amount of alcohol in my system. I grabbed his nose playfully, earning a giggle from him. He swatted my hand away.

"Ah, Matthew, I don't think you're in any condition to be asking me that," Ivan smiled softly.

I still have no idea what took hold of me. Maybe it was the vodka, or the opportunity presenting itself. It may have been the loneliness of Valentine's Day past. But I grasped the collar of Russia's heavy coat and slammed my lips against his. It was a sloppy kiss at best, but it was still a kiss nonetheless.

Ivan pulled away hastily, eyes wide with shock. I laughed maniacally at his reaction. Just as quickly as he pulled away, Ivan's hands cupped me cheeks delicately as he brought my face to his. His kiss was soft, barely grazing my lips. But my arms found their way to wrap around his neck all the same. Slowly but steadily, the kiss evolved into one more passionate.

I hadn't the slightest clue how long we had been like that- lips interlocked, tongues battling fiercely with one another, hands tangling once perfectly combed hair. All that mattered was that we had ended up that way.

I pulled away for breath first. I wobbled, unadjusted to this new feeling. The kissing had left me feeling a multitude of things. Blissful. Invincible. Unforgotten.

I had to bask in the glory of it all before speaking.

"You… do love me, eh?" I stumbled upon my words, wondering whether I should ask or not.

"_Da.__ Ya tebya lyublyu_."

It was as if the burden of being forgotten was lifted from my shoulders.

Someone remembered _me_.

Someone cared about _me_.

Someone loved _me_.

It was an inconceivable idea that the one I had watched from afar could return my feelings. _Me_, Canada, Matthew Williams- the one no one seemed to remember or identify. It was all too surreal.

Ivan lightly pecked my forehead, saying "_Schastlivij Den' Svyatogo Valentina_."

I furrowed my eyebrows, unable to process the strange but beautiful words spewing out of his mouth. "What?"

"Happy Valentine's Day."

* * *

Translations: (All words are in Russian)

_*Da_- yes

_*Den__ʹ__ svyatogo Valentina-_ Valentine's Day

_*Ochen horosho_- Very well

_*"Oy polnym polna mоya korobushka_

_Yest' i sitets i parcha.  
Pozhaley, dusha-zaznobushka,  
Molodetskogo plecha..._

_*Katya berezhno torguyetsya  
Vsyo boitsya peredat'— _

_- _These are excerpts of the famous folk song '_Korobeiniki_'. The title translates to 'Peddlers.' They lyrics from these excerpts translate to:

"Oh, my crate is so full,

I've got chintz and brocade.  
Take pity, oh sweety,  
Of this lad's shoulder…

Katya is haggling with care,  
She is afraid to pay too much—" (Many know this song as the theme of Tetris.)

*_Priviet_- Hello (informal)

*_ Zvuchit neploho-_ English equivalent to "sounds good"

*_ Nyet_- No

*_ Budem zdorovy_- Let's stay healthy, equivalent of "cheers"

*_Ya tebya lyublyu_- I love you

Ending Thoughts: I couldn't resist doing this for a certain special friend of mine. Happy Valentine's Day! Reviews and creative criticism are much appreciated. As a side note, a Chesterfield is a type of couch, but it's the Canadian alternative to saying "leather couch." (Or so I've heard- please correct me if I'm wrong.)


End file.
